


When We Meet Again

by SlytherinOwl



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Rare Pairings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 14:44:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20229589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlytherinOwl/pseuds/SlytherinOwl
Summary: "Suddenly Hermione spotted messy brown hair with a red streak in it. He was on the bridge.“No,” she breathed, almost inaudible.As if she had yelled it though, his storm grey eyes snapped to her."When Hermione sets out to find the perfect familiar, Crookshanks is not the only one to come into her life. Little do they know how troublesome their friendship will become.





	1. Prologue

The sky had long ago lost its colour on the first of May in 1998 when the first scream could be heard in the distance. Hermione Granger tensed up. They needed to get this right, they needed to win this fight. 

She was not sure what would happen if they didn’t, but she also made an effort not to think about it. Her hands were already shaking without her getting any more worried.

Next to her was Neville Longbottom. A boy that used to be so shy, he could barely speak to others without stuttering. Now he was one of the few very calm and collected students, coordinating where the younger ones were sent to and planning to blow up the old wooden bridge that connected the Sundial Garden to the Clock Tower Courtyard. 

They could do this. They had to. 

Hermione was still trying to tell herself to calm down and to  _ please not panic _ when Seamus finished planting the explosives around the bridge and had climbed back up to them. 

Another scream was heard in the distance. It had grown even later by now, the stars where out an the moon was shining brightly. 

For now the shields were holding off Death Eaters and Snatchers alike, who were firing curse after curse from every direction at Hogwarts. But how long would they hold?

“Oh no.” Seamus whispered. 

It seemed they were about to get their answer. A large number of what appeared to be Snatchers had gathered behind the Sundial Garden and slowly came into view, taking slow calculated steps. Hermione’s eyes wandered searchingly over the crowd, but she spotted no one she recognised. 

Suddenly three Snatchers seemed to have gotten tired of waiting around, they ran forward, through the protective barrier and collapsed immediately. No one tried to follow them. 

Hermione gripped her wand tightly. She knew she needed to go and find Harry and Ron, but first she had to see this through, and not just because bringing the bridge down was important for cutting off ways into the castle. 

The snatchers waited. As did Neville, Hermione and other members of Dumbledore’s Army who had come to help them with the bridge.

Only seconds after the castle clock struck midnight the Death Eaters seemed to attack the barrier as one. Hermione’s eyes wandered around, the shields were crackling with blue and purple waves of magic. If she had not been so afraid of them all dying the sight would have been one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen.

Suddenly the shield cracked one last time and then broke down. 

It took the Snatchers just a few seconds to realise what it meant, then the first one ran forward. When he passed the line where the shields had been and nothing happened, the others followed suit. 

Neville stood on the safe side of the bridge, waiting for the Snatchers to come close enough to set off the explosions. He shot hex after hex at the first of the Snatchers, but the first man continued on. Hermione stood beside Seames, Ginny, Padma, Nigel, Ernie and Leanne at the end of the bridge that led to the Clock Tower Courtyard. They had their wands drawn and waited for Neville to set their plan in motion. 

Suddenly Hermione spotted messy brown hair with a red streak in it. He was on the bridge.

“No,” she breathed, almost inaudible. 

As if she had yelled it though, his storm grey eyes snapped to her. She could make out that his lips were moving, but she could not hear what he said. 

Then he broke out into a run and this time she did shout. 

“NO!” 

But he either did not hear her or did not understand. She took a step forward, wanted to tell Neville not to do it, but Ginny grabbed her arm and spun her around. Blue confused eyes looked at her when she tried to break free again. 

But her chance is gone, Neville already shot off the hex. 

Chaos broke loose. It started with a dark rumble, then the first explosion followed, setting the others off as well. The bridge exploded into tiny pieces. 

She knew he was still on there. He had started sprinting, but he had been no more than even halfway across when Neville broke the bridge down. Hermione broke free of Ginny’s hold, trying to locate him, but the men were already falling. She could not see him anymore.

“NO!” She shouted again. 

But he was gone. And while the others celebrated their small victory, and pulled Neville up from where he had almost fallen down into the ravine or the river as well, Hermione felt weak. She slowly sank to her knees. 

He had tried to get to her, tried to tell her something. 

And now he was gone. 

She clenched her fists so tightly, her fingernails broke the skin of her palms, while tears filled her eyes. 

She knew she needed to find Harry and Ron. But she let herself have a minute of grief for the man she had lost, for the man that had been so much more to her than just a snatcher.


	2. Crookshanks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione sets out to get the perfect familiar and gets more than she bargained for.

It was a warm and sunny day when Hermione Granger entered Diagon Alley with a purpose two weeks before term at Hogwarts was about to start again. It was going to be her third year and this year her parents had finally given in to Hermione’s constant begging and pleading.

She was finally going to get a familiar.

Her parents had been against it when she started Hogwarts aged almost twelve, they thought it was too much responsibility for a child to take care of a familiar all by themselves. Not that she had ever been unreliable or unresponsible – quite the opposite actually – but her parents were sometimes peculiar like that.

Now that she was about to turn 14 at the beginning of term her parents had finally given in, it was an early birthday present of sorts.

Hermione of course already knew what she wanted. She wanted an owl, just like Harry had Hedwig. It would be good not to have to use the Hogwarts owls to send letters to her parents, and she always thought Hedwig had a really calming effect on Harry.

The young girl took a deep breath and started walking in the direction of the magical menagerie. Her parents did not accompany her – they stopped doing that after the fiasco in Diagon Alley with Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy before her second year. She knew that her parents were immensely proud of her, of her magic and her achievements. But she also realised that they felt massively uncomfortable around magic, something they had no control over and could not understand. But she could do this, after all she had told them she was responsible, so she could certainly manage to find a familiar on her own.

So here she was, by herself, making her way to the store that even looked dusty from the outside.

Her hand touched the door and before she could push, it opened slowly with a low squeaking sound.

Hermione’s eyes took a second to adjust to the dark inside of the store. It was indeed as dusty as she had expected. The only sounds she could hear came from the various cages, the soft rustling of little paws on wood, on straw and somewhere in the store she could hear the low hooting of an owl.

“Hello?” She called. No answer came.

She called a second time, but again she could only hear the animals running up and down their small cages.

After another second Hermione bit her lip and started walking up and down the rows of cages.

There were magical rats, who looked at her with disturbing intelligence – much more than Scabbers had ever displayed – and a shudder went down her spine. Next to the magical rats were the normal everyday rats that disturbed her quite a bit less. But where were the owls?

The further back into the store she had to walk, the more she had to squint to recognise anything. She turned left at the end of the row and saw the owls.

She smiled. It was going to be one of them, her perfect familiar.

When she took a step closer to them, something suddenly touched her shoulder.

With a rather undignified squeal she spun around, her hands pressed to her heart, and gaped at the young man standing behind her.

The boy could not yet have been twenty and smiled cheekily at her. He had brown hair that was almost as long as hers, and seemed even worse to be managed, if his dishevelled look was anything to go by.

“Welcome to the Magical Menagerie. The name’s Scabior. ‘ow can I ‘elp you, sweetheart?”

She blushed. No guy had ever called her sweetheart. But she did not blush because she was smitten. Quite the opposite. How dare he take this kind of liberties with her?

“My name is Hermione Granger and I would appreciate it, if you would not call me ‘sweetheart’. Or any other term of endearment. I am a customer after all.” She huffed.

Scabior’s lazy grin just grew.

“Oh, a feisty one. I think I like you.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes further.

“I want an owl.” Politeness did not seem to work with this kind of  _ person  _ either way.

“I’m sure you want one. Probably a really pretty one, with big eyes and shiny feathers.” Judging by his widening grin, he was definitely mocking her.

She put her fists onto her hips and glowered up at him. Unfortunately the menacing effect she was going for was completely lost due to the fact that he was probably about one foot taller than her.

She was about to start a rant – about respect and manners – when he continued speaking.

“But ‘onestly, sweetheart, I think I might ‘ave just the thing for you.” He stalked away from her, leaving her staring angrily after him.

Hermione was considering just leaving the store, but she did not want to come off as someone who could not stand their point. She had said she wanted to leave with an owl, so with in owl she shall leave.

After another minute she could hear Scabior – that was his name, was it not? – whisper to someone in a low voice.

“Do behave, at least a bit. I’m sure this is the closest you are to being a familiar, that you have been since getting here.”

He turned around and did not have an owl for her. It was not even another bird.

With a wide, somewhat toothy smile he presented her a huge, orange cat. It was, without a doubt, a hideous cat. Its fur was patchy, some places long, some places short, and its face was flat, as though it had been thrown against a wall. Repeatedly.

The cat looked at her, its head tilted to the side and it was watching her with curious eyes.

Then it did two things that endeared her to the orange beast. It mewled at her, quite softly and barely half a second later it had scratched at Scabior with such force, that he dropped the cat and swore.

“Oh, bloody ‘ell! What was that for, you stupid beast?” One of his hands was adorned with three bloody scratches and he glowered at the cat.

Now it was Hermione’s turn to grin. Maybe she did not want an owl at all.

“I think he’s perfect.” She said while leaning down, pleased that the cat had immediately crossed the floor to rub against her legs.

Scabior threw a dark look in the cat’s direction and had to hide his smile. 

Hermione had been smitten as soon as she had seen the orange beast, but now that he had put that insufferable shop boy into his place, she was sure this was her familiar.

“What’s your name? I think you will come home with me, if you would like that.” She smiled and leaned down while gently petting the ginger cat’s fur.

“’is name is Crookshanks. Thought you might like ‘im, you reminded me of ‘im.” The cheeky grin was back, even though he was still covering his scratched hand up.

Hermione was silent for a moment. “Thank you,” she finally said.

Scabior just grinned again, and slowly walked back to the store’s front where the cashier was placed.

“I am just grateful that this monster is finally getting away. ‘e was terrorising everyone. Me in particular.”

“Must have been your lovely personality.”

He shot her a look and huffed a short laugh.

“Right. Thanks for that, sweetheart.”

Hermione just stayed in the shop for another couple of minutes, Scabior explained to her how to care for Crookshanks, sold her a special brush – because apparently not just Hermione’s and Scabior’s hair was a mess – and a transport box so that the cat would not get away from her as soon as they stepped out into Diagon Alley.

But with Crookshanks being very attached to her, that risk seemed minimal.

When she had paid for her new familiar and the items she just stared at Scabior for a second. Then she proceeds to trick Crookshanks to enter his transport box – she really did not want to risk him deciding that he did not like her after all.

“Thank you for Crookshanks.” She smiled again.

“You’re most welcome, sweetheart.” His grin softened to a smile.

Hermione turned and walked to the door of the shop.

“Goodbye, Scabior.” She did look back, when one of her feet was already out of the store.

“Goodbye, sweetheart.” His eyes followed her.

When she had left the door had closed quietly behind her and the sun suddenly seemed too bright after having been in the dimly lit store for quite a while.

She looked down onto the transport box and her face broke into a huge, toothy smile. She definitely had to show Crookshanks to Harry and Ron! And she should probably introduce them, she did not want Crookshanks to be quite as rough with them as he had been with Scabior. Unless Ron made another joke aimed at her studying habits. But that really would be his own fault.

With a spring in her step and the smile never wavering she skipped into the direction of the Leaky Cauldron, where she was supposed to meet her two best friends.

Her mind did wander back to the shop boy that had initially unnerved her but had made it all up with bringing her Crookshanks. He had been really rude – but to be fair, so had she been, had she not? – but in a funny way. He was not disrespecting her, he just seemed to take no one too serious, especially not almost 14-year-olds who were so sure they had everything figured out.

Hermione sighed. He had been nice to her in a weird way, though. Most people weren’t. She bit her lip. Maybe she was looking forward to seeing the strange boy again. Surely she would need new supplies for Crookshanks next summer?

* * *

Inside the store Scabior was still grinning. He was sure he would meet her again, the little spitfire. It did seem as though she and the cat from hell were made for each other though. He wondered whether her temper was as bad as the cat’s or whether she just liked to put on a fierce face for the outsiders.

Either way, he had decided that he quite liked Hermione Granger.

* * *

When term had started again - and Diagon Alley had become as blissfully quiet as it usually was when Hogwarts was in term - he got an owl. 

In a very neat handwriting Hermione Granger complained to him about the low-quality brush he had sold her for Crookshanks' fur. Barely three weeks had gone by and it was already useless because it broke in half. 

Looking back he should probably have pointed out that Crookshanks was at least a half-Kneazel and as such quite magically inclined. Oh well, he was sure that she would discover this tidbit of information for herself after sometime. 

Grinning he started writing a return letter to her, where he joked about Crookshanks simply not wanting to be brushed (it was probably the truth) but if she really would want to continue getting herself scratched at, he was not going to stand in her way. He enclosed another brush with his letter. 

Wanting to point out her good manners she sent him another letter, thanking him for the brush. 

He of course sent her another letter in return. 

And thus Hermione had unwittingly gotten herself a pen pal. 


End file.
